Phantasy Star V: The Balance of Eternity
by isahn80
Summary: Epic sequel to PS4. The Great Light has returned, and is here for a mysterious purpose. What could this mean for the Citizens of Algo? Is the Great Light really the benevolent entity everyone has been led to believe?
1. Prologue

**PHANTASY STAR V: THE BALANCE OF ETERNITY**

**Introduction:**

In Phantasy Star IV: End of the Millennium, The Profound Darkness was destroyed, ending the eternal threat of destruction to the Algo Solar System. Now, one thousand years later, the citizens of Algo are celebrating the first Millennium without the threat of Dark Force or the Profound Darkness.

However, something else has arrived at the Algo Solar System. The Great Light has returned, and is here for a mysterious purpose. What could this mean for the Citizens of Algo? Is the Great Light really the benevolent entity everyone has been led to believe?

**Prologue:**

"No, no, no! This is complete incompetence! I won't stand for it!" John Hansen bellowed, shaking a thick, ham-sized fist in the air, "everything is completely behind schedule! How the hell am I supposed to explain this to the Restoration Committee?" His gruff voice echoed loudly in the confines of his small office, causing the room's only other occupant to cringe.

"But sir, the gravity well generators are still placed exactly to specification," a thin, blue-haired man with a nasal voice attempted to assuage his increasingly irate superior, "and seem to be functioning at one-hundred percent capacity"

"Apparently there was a mistake, not that that's any surprise." Growling, the obese, penguin-shaped man flopped into his grav-chair, whose magna-lift units groaned under the stress, " we finally get these things to start working properly, and then about a fourth suddenly go offline. I'm curious as to why"

"I'll assemble a team to overview the generator modules," the thin man continued, knowing fully well had he not volunteered, Hansen would have ordered him to do it anyway.

"Good idea," Hansen replied, with more than a little anger still in his deep voice, "and while you're out there, stay observant. Something about this doesn't seem right. I've been overseeing the reconstruction of New Palma for over thirty years, and I've never seen anything like this"

"Yes sir!" The blue-haired man agreed hastily, before vanishing as quickly as possible.

Thirty years. John Hansen had been working in this tiny, stale office aboard the space station _Palman Dream_ for thirty long, tedious years. The space station itself was situated near the asteroid belt that was all that remained of beautiful Palma after its destruction over two thousand years ago, the exact cause of which was forgotten long ago. It was suspected the Espers might know something about the matter, but if they did they were keeping it to themselves.

Hansen pushed a button on the underside of his desk, and one of the lower drawers slid open with a click. Muttering despondently to himself, John reached in and yanked out one of several bottles of liquor he kept appropriated for situations like these. Although, he reflected, merely being in his position was enough to warrant draining the whole thing. After indulging in a long draught, he slammed the bottle down, wiping dribbles of alcohol from his fat chin.

_If it weren't for the booze and semi-annual vacations,_ he thought dismally,_ I'd have jumped out the airlock long ago..._

He swiveled his chair to face the source of his damnation, the Palman asteroid belt. Through a large flexi-glass viewport, he could see the various chunks of the former planet as they serenely tumbled about, occasionally coming so close to the station they hit the powerful shielding, bouncing off as they did so. When John had first been contracted for this job so long ago, the outrageous pay seemed worth it, and he felt that he could finally put his expertise in astrophysics to good, practical use. Now, of course, after several false starts and dismal failures, it became apparent the restoration of Palma was more or less a prohibitively expensive pipe dream. Still, despite his jaded disdain for the job at hand, he'd see it out until his retirement sometime in the next decade or so. Besides, these new versions of the gravity well generators actually seemed to work. Already, he could see some of the asteroids coming together to form small clusters around the generators, although it would be several years before this phase of the process was complete.

Starting almost a millenia ago, the people of Algo overcame the destruction wrought by the Profound Darkness. Through the re-discovery of advanced technology, and the assistance of the remaining climatrol systems, Motavia was finally stabilized, turning the planet green and fertile once more. With this accomplished, civilization flourished across both Motavia and Dezolis, and what had once been struggling towns eventually swelled into enormous metropolises. Space flight was also re-developed fairly quickly, and trade was established not only between the two planets, but also to inhabited systems beyond. At one point, colony ships were also dispatched to seek out distant, inhabitable solar systems, although the success of these missions could only be guessed at, since transmissions would take hundreds if not thousands of years to reach Algo. The space-minus communication system, which made interstellar data exchange nearly instantaneous, had yet to be invented at that time.

In this scientific, cultural and economical renaissance, there were a radical group of astrophysicists who theorized that with advanced enough technology, and the aid of the ever-present ethereal energy that permeated the entire solar system, the shattered remains of Palma could potentially be restored into a complete planet. This mysterious energy, dispersed generously throughout Algo, was known by the acronym STE, which meant "Subatomic Transient Energy." This was also the same energy that Techniques drew upon, and it was generally accepted this had been the force that imprisoned the monstrous cosmic entity know as the Profound Darkness as well.

The exact process for restoring Palma was deceptively simple. By gathering the asteroids into small planetesimals with gravity-well generators, and then using powerful tractor beams to smash them together at high velocities, eventually a molten protoplanet would form. Once this was accomplished, the remaining asteroids would be gathered and simply dropped onto the infant planetoid's surface, increasing its size even further. Experimental and highly unstable new technology, capable of gathering and focusing STE, was being used to speed the process along; otherwise it would take millions if not billions of years. Current estimates stood at a complete, inhabitable planet within several millennia.

Somehow, Hansen was not optimistic. The technology necessary to both stimulate and expedite various necessary geologic functions, as well as cool an entire planet that would essentially be a ball of molten rock, had yet to go beyond the concept phase even now. The devices that had been invented with this purpose in mind had either malfunctioned (often with disastrous results) or simply refused to work.

Nevertheless, the astrophysicists had received the backing of the Motavian government, and public enthusiasm was overwhelming. In addition, several powerful corporations showed interest in the project, and contributed money and resources in exchange for generous future property rights on New Palma. It was only recently that the gravity well generators had been developed, and "Project Restoration," as it was popularly referred to, was finally underway. John Hansen, one of the most recent astrophysicists to work on the project, had labored tirelessly to get the gravity well generators, all several thousand of them, properly placed and activated. Naturally, they didn't work worth a damn, and only managed to attract cosmic dust. Decades had gone by, and the generator modules were re-configured, upgraded and replaced several times, and at great expense. After several waves of incompetent workers were factored in, it was a surprise the project hadn't been cancelled altogether. Hansen recalled with a grunt the time he'd actively caught some workers apparently mining asteroids instead of configuring modules like they'd been paid to do.

Thanks to events such as these, interest in the project had been waning rapidly, and John, of course, was often the scapegoat for such failure. Fortunately, generators that could tap in to the flow of STE had been produced, and signs of "Project Restoration" reaching fruition appeared promising.

Of course, now that everything was actually starting to work as it should, something very strange was affecting some of the generator modules, and John Hansen was unable to get any kind of diagnostic readings, or even make contact with their computers at all. It was as if they'd disappeared entirely.

Grunting as he shifted in his grav-chair, Hansen moved back to his desk, studying a view screen that was linked to the utility starship the skinny blue-haired man and his team were currently loading with supplies. As Hansen gazed at the readouts, making sure everything was nominal, the ship slowly rose from the hangar and left the _Palman Dream._ First, the starship stopped at the closest gravity well generator, and a quick scan showed what Hansen had suspected all along: nothing unusual. If there was a problem, it wasn't with the generators themselves. Were there aliens or pirates at work?

The ship began to gain speed and head to its next destination, when suddenly, Hansen's view screen began to fill with static, then promptly blacked out.

Cursing, Hansen tapped his ear piece to contact the pilot of the ship verbally. "Hansen, calling observation starship G-twelve. Come in, G-twelve," What the hell was happening?

"Sir!" came a panicked reply, "something's out here! We can't make a read…too much…visuals….can't…..bright….." and then there was again nothing but static. For the first time in his thirty years overseeing the terraforming of New Palma, John Hansen was panicked. After a few more futile attempts to contact the ship, the lights and all equipment in his office suddenly shut off. His grav chair dumped the large man rudely onto the cold, metal floor, and Hansen struggled to pull himself upright, using his desk as leverage. Puffing from the exertion, he turned to look out the flexi-glass window once more, and could only gape in awe. Something very large, and very bright, was slowly moving toward the space station, and it seemed to actually be _absorbing_ the asteroids and occasional gravity generators it passed. Hansen could feel the hair rising on the back of his neck as his cholesterol-choked heart began pounding like a hammer. Abruptly, the remaining power in the _Palman Dream_ died, meaning the artificial gravity went offline. Hansen's bulbous body immediately started rising, but he hardly noticed. Even though he had to squint to keep from being blinded, Hansen could not stop staring. The thing was so beautiful and radiant, it took his breath away. First figuratively, and then literally.

As Hansen floated there, dying, he could only feel the utmost happiness. The thing, a powerful entity, had called to him in a seductive voice that every fiber of his being told him was good and pure. He smiled as he passed away.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Dammit Rich, GET DOWN!" Jake yelled as he abruptly shoved a protesting Rich out of the way. Richard Isahn tumbled aside just as a stream of hyperkinetic bullets streaked by, the heat generated from their passage scorching the ends of his medium length, aquamarine hair.

Jake leapt back into a defensive posture, after deftly tossing a few of the deadly throwing daggers he kept hidden all over his person. Although no scream or other telltale sounds of incapacitation were heard, the gunfire died just as suddenly as it had began.

Breathing heavily, Jake exchanged a hasty glance with Rich, his novice partner and also a member of the Hunter's Guild. Recognizing that Richard wasn't exactly sure how to proceed, Jake took the lead once more and peered cautiously over the stack of contraband military crates that had served as their cover.

Just as he'd thought. The gunman, an imposingly large human male, had been hit squarely between the eyes by one of Jake's deadly throwing knives, and now slumped lifelessly against the warehouse wall. Tentatively, Jake looked around, his sensitive numan ears alert for any further signs of the enemy. Richard, for his part, gathered himself and stood once Jake motioned the coast was clear. Grasping his lightweight but deadly carbon sword tightly in one gloved hand, Rich followed his partner deeper into the inner corridors of the supposedly abandoned warehouse. After several days of searching, they'd finally discovered the whereabouts of a group of criminals believed responsible for the theft of a shipment of military goods. While the Motavian Military (not to be confused with the armed forces of the actual blue-furred Motavians themselves) was drawing upon its own agents and resources, the reputation of the Hunter's Guild was impressive as far as completed missions went, and so the Military High Command contracted the Guild for this particular incident, as the recovery of the stolen goods was considered top priority.

However, the Hunter's Guild and the military had never really gotten along, and it was clear that by even contacting the Guild that High Command was desperate. Therefore, it was determined, after careful consideration of the military's consistent refusal for aid in the past, that rather than send their best Hunters on this mission, the Guild would send… Jake the numan and his human companion, the fledgling Hunter Isahn. While capable of getting the job done, Jake was notorious for wasting time in a variety of creative ways, and half of his missions he completed almost by accident. Richard Isahn was a promising recruit but not enough that his training was given top-priority, thus he was partnered with Jake, the fact that no one else was even willing to work with the flippant numan notwithstanding.

Jake had gotten uncharacteristically serious when he'd come across rumors of the Inquisition being involved in the theft; although Isahn wasn't clear on the specifics, it seemed Jake had some kind of grudge against them which he refused to discuss. Although never having knowingly met an Inquisitor, they did not sound like pleasant folk to Richard. Since their existence was first made public a few months prior, shortly after the Great Light's return, it seemed as though each day brought news of yet another tragedy wrought by these fanatics.

Word of the Great Light's return had quickly spread throughout Algo, and at first uproarious celebrations were thrown in every city and town. Then, however, news of the Great Light having destroyed the workers restoring New Palma had reached the shocked ears of Algo's citizens. They could only watch as The Great Light proceeded to slowly and methodically eradicate the asteroid belt, and any hope for Palma's eventual restoration. There were mixed reactions to this news. Religious leaders had proclaimed the Great Light was here to punish the citizens of Algo for their various sins and neglect of their Creator, and for their arrogance in thinking they could recreate something only the Great Light could. Gushing with adulation, they prayed daily along with their flock for the Great Light to discipline them for their failures.

Others were frightened, and a sense of betrayal was prevalent among them. Not wanting themselves, their families and friends to be "punished" for what they saw as unfair reasons, they spurned the messages of the Church, and waited in defiance for whatever the Great Light had in store for them. Reportedly, it was due to the attitude of citizens such as these that the Inquisition was formed.

The United Church of the Great Light had unintentionally spawned an underground movement known as the "Inquisition of Holy Reunion," where more fanatical members of the Church would don white robes and a mask, then prey on those not completely devoted to receiving the Great Light's divine message, and forcing these unfortunate citizens to see the error of their ways with a variety of cruel methods. The Motavian Government increased law enforcement in response, but the members of the Inquisition were many, and they learned to continue their activities with the utmost discretion.

The Hunter's Guild had struggled during the long peacetime, and its few active members mostly settled for solving smaller cases, such as dispatching the occasional biomonster that had proven unstable and unable to adapt to the environment it had been designed for. Lately, however, the underground Inquisition had proven to be enough of a threat that the Central Motavian Government had contracted the Guild to assist in the investigation and apprehension of any suspected Inquisitors. Curiously, biomonster attacks had also increased in both frequency and viciousness within the past few months. Deemed essential for the artificial ecosystem of Motavia, certain biomonsters had been allowed to roam free after the defeat of the Profound Darkness a millennia earlier, after being behaviorally modified to be much more docile, of course. Lately, their behavior had changed for the worse, however. The fact that they had become more aggressive since the Great Light's return was almost too much of a coincidence.

Luckily, Jake and Isahn had managed to avoid contact with any biomosters; so far it had only been other sentient beings trying to kill them. Although the thieves' hideout had been discovered, and the weapon crates found, the mission was still not going well. Much to Jake's chagrin, most of the crates were found empty.

_Well, looks like I found one of the weapons,_ Jake thought sardonically as he kicked the corpse of the gunman that had been firing at them just a moment ago. The man slumped to the side, his dangerously illegal weapon clattering harmlessly to the ceramocrete warehouse floor. Richard took a long, mildly disgusted look toward the corpse and watched with beginner's interest as Jake searched the dead man's body. Finding a wafer-thin keycard of questionable origin, Jake proceeded to feed the card into a slot mounted on the heavily-armored warehouse door separating them from the inner chambers, which at one point had housed the offices that oversaw the daily operation of the now-derelict warehouse.

As the heavy door unlocked with an audible click, Rich pulled it open while Jake almost somersaulted inside, twin daggers at the ready. While most Numan fighters favored claws, perhaps out of tradition, Jake was in the minority that preferred daggers, although he wielded them with deadly efficiency.

Mentally preparing himself, Richard slid inside the dark room, ready to back his senior partner up with the fury of his blade-or so he hoped. Raising his sword, which was of a generic Aiedo manufacture, Rich poised himself, ready for whatever the enemy could throw at him. His eyes quickly widened as he realized that he hadn't been quite as ready as he thought. Out of the corner of his eye, Isahn noticed Jake attempting to creep behind the cover of an old corroded desk.

Before them, a hulking mechanism that resembled the offspring of an industrial slave droid and a drunken locusta approached on four thick legs, its two outstretched arms mounted with heavy blast cannons that could only be of military manufacture. The single, malevolently glowing red eye flashed twice in recognition of the intrusion, and the machine groaned into life, raising its cannons into attack position almost immediately. The robot was less than five meters away, and behind it Rich noticed signs of frantic movement in the room beyond. Although barely able to clear the ceiling, the machine had obviously been able to squeeze itself through the narrow doorway, most likely to cover the escape of the suspected thieves.

Jake noticed this as well, and motioned for Richard to cover him using his own brand of Hunter sign language (which consisted primarily of pointing). Acknowledging Jake's order, Richard knew it was time to prove his worth. This was only his third mission, although it was by far the most serious yet; the previous two missions had him tracking down an escaped felon and then playing detective as a high-profile socialite was convinced her husband had been cheating on her and desired proof. The husband had been, of course, but Jake took advantage of the opportunity and intentionally withheld the information for a few days, as he'd been hoping to use that time to get to know the lady better.

As with most of Jake's plans involving women, it failed miserably. When it came to missions, however, the numan at least partially knew what he was doing. Jake darted forward in an attempt to roll past the large gap between the robots two pairs of legs, but with typical robotic precision the machine readied itself to blast the Hunter into bloody scraps.

Richard wasn't about to let that happen. With his off-hand outstretched, Isahn felt the ethereal energy know as STE well up inside of him like a volcano ready to erupt, and with uncommon ease allowed it to be released in a specific form and direction. In this instance, the _Foie_ technique he used compressed then ignited the oxygen in the air, forming a sort of fireball that screamed toward its target. Although the robot was generally heat-resistant, the _Foie_ technique was nearly as hot as plasma, and when the red blaze of energy hit the machine, it staggered backward. The _Foie_ blast had hit the machine squarely in what passed for a head, immediately dissolving that malignant red eye and hopefully damaging other critical components.

As Richard raised his sword to take advantage of the machine's incapacitation, Jake successfully tumbled between the machine's legs, somehow avoiding dripping bits of molten metal in the process. Wasting no time, the numan hurried into the back room, where the culprits had been busily preparing their escape. Isahn leapt straight ahead with a yell, slashing downward. His razor-sharp blade cut a deep gouge in the robot's right shoulder armor, but unfortunately the arm was not severed as Richard had hoped. His heart pounding, Isahn stepped back, and, almost panicking, struck again, this time aiming a bit lower. He managed to cleave one of the cannons neatly in half, but did not stop there. A well-timed horizontal slice caused a shower of hot sparks to erupt in all direction, making Richard squint from their brightness.

For its part, the machine staggered forward, apparently still functional. While not well-versed in the specifics of robotic operation, it seemed there were several redundancies built in to this particular model, as well as alternative methods of perceiving its environment other than the single red eye. This became painfully obvious when the robot fired several rounds from its still-functioning cannon, and had Richard not been inside its firing arc, there wouldn't have been enough of him remaining to fill a dish. Nevertheless, the shells exploded against the warehouse wall not too far behind him, their concussive blast deafening Rich and knocking him forcefully to the ground. Hot chunks of compressed mortar showered him, and the telltale orange glow of fire began illuminating the room with growing intensity. Ignoring the blood dripping down his face, Isahn scrambled to get back up, the adrenaline coursing through his veins aiding him in this endeavor.

As he stood, however, the robot punched with its ruined cannon. He didn't see the damaged arm until it was almost too late; the machine was quick. At the last second, Richard raised his sword in a feeble attempt to parry the impending blow, the thin blade of charged polycarbon barely able to withstand the overwhelming artificial strength of the machine. Flying backwards from the force of the attack, Richard crashed through several dilapidated crates containing moldy old paperwork, which he normally would have found interesting since paper hadn't been used in centuries. Luckily, these crates hadn't caught fire yet, although judging by the rapidly spreading orange glow surrounding him, that was about to change.

Somehow Isahn managed to hold on to his weapon, and, although coughing and sputtering from the cloud of dust that had erupted all around him when he landed, he found himself able to stand and face the machine once more. Ignoring the smoke, dust, and worrisome sounds of hyperkinetic machine gun fire from the room beyond, Isahn again thrust his sword forward, attempting run the robot through. This time he got lucky. The thin blade efficiently slid between a seam in the armor, and the robot twitched in response. In an attempt to do as much damage as possible, Rich jerked the sword back and forth before finally wrenching it free with a flourish. The robot convulsed and strange groaning noises emanated from within its artificial bowels. Fueled by this apparent triumph, he chopped hard at the machine's still-functional arm, this time aiming slightly above what would be commonly considered its elbow.

As it fell to the floor harmlessly, the arm twitched and sparked, vaguely resembling the severed limb of some primitive animal. The robot itself merely shuddered before slumping forward, acrid black smoke erupting from the seam Isahn had penetrated. It took a moment for Isahn to realize he'd actually won, and as he wiped a copious amount of sweat from his brow, Richard actually laughed a little. Euphoric from surviving his first real battle, it seemed like a harmless celebration.

"Wow, you survived," Jake's reedy voice echoed slightly in the close confines of the warehouse office as he stepped forward, surveying the disabled robot and the rapidly spreading fire consuming the ancient paperwork and other office features, "I just contacted the local Authorities, they should be here shortly to deal with these guys and that fire you started"

"That I started?" Isahn gaped. Rich was proud of his accomplishment, and Jake's admonishment would have stung were he not used to it by now. Jake merely stood there with his arms folded, and although he was just as bruised and scraped-up as Isahn, seemed as arrogant as ever.

"If I didn't have to go chasing after those guys back there," Jake jerked his thumb toward the back room, "that robot wouldn't have lasted five seconds"

Somehow Richard doubted that, but decided not to say anything.

"Well let's hurry up and interrogate this guy. There's a survivor, and once the local authorities get here there's no way we'll be able to get our hands on him again." With that, Jake turned and disappeared into the back room. Sighing, Isahn sheathed his sword and followed closely behind.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Wake up, asshole!" Jake yelled callously as he slapped the unconscious form laying before him. The surviving thief was an older human, and his sallow face and numerous scars bespoke of having lead a difficult life. Jake had knocked him unconscious by hitting him hard with the butt of a dagger, and Isahn knew Jake well enough by now to realize the thief had only been kept alive because they needed information. Glancing around in the dim light of the musty room, Isahn shuddered as he spotted several other bodies, all lifeless. Jake was an efficient killer when he had to be, although generally this behavior was only brought about by others attempting to end his life. Although Rich disliked killing as much as anyone else, he begrudgingly acknowledged it as essential in certain missions such as this one.

Aware of the fire still spreading in the other room, Jake was impatient. He shook the man violently, and was rewarded with a feeble moan from the thief's chapped lips. As the man regained consciousness, he winced in pain and rubbed the spot where Jake had apparently struck him. After a few moments he realized what was happening and his eyes widened in panic.

"D-Don't kill me!" the man feebly muttered, trying his best to curl into a ball, "I was j-just following orders"

"Heard it before," Jake replied impassively, putting a dagger to the man's neck to emphasize his point, "now tell me what I want to know and I'll leave you in the care of the local authorities. Otherwise, I'll be more than happy to let you join your friends." The man chanced a quick glance to his left and shuddered when he spotted one of his former companions lying in a pool of rapidly congealing blood. Although there was a very good chance the thief HAD been just blindly following orders, Isahn recognized that Jake needed to be unforgiving if any information was to be gleaned. Their mission had been to discover the whereabouts of the stolen goods, and so far much of them had come up missing.

"Where's the rest of the weapons?" Jake gritted his teeth in frustration. The authorities would be here soon, "I don't have time to mess around. You either tell me, or die. I could care less, so it's up to you." Jake really did care, of course, since his pay hinged on the success of this interrogation.

"Uh… uh…" the thief was taken aback by Jake's forcefulness, and opted to say nothing. Jake sighed, and pushed the dagger further into the man's neck, a trickle of crimson beginning to appear from beneath its edge.

"Ok, ok!" The man screamed, appearing on the verge of tears, "they're gone, alright? Some people came and got them already!" Jake withdrew his dagger just a few millimeters, and peered at the thief with renewed interest.

"Who?"

"I dunno… just some men! I didn't get a good look at them… I was busy unpacking the crates and helping Glay program that robot we found… like I told you I was just following orders!" The man seemed defiant at this point, as if his actions were now justified. Isahn didn't know who Glay was, but guessed it was one of the men Jake had recently taken out.

"Where were these guys from? Did they have any identifying features, or an accent or anything?" Jake wasn't satisfied just yet.

"I have no idea… they just came, got the weapons, paid us and left," the thief muttered. A flicker of fear danced across the man's face, and both Jake and Richard recognized the implications. It was obvious he knew who the buyers were, although he was doing his best to conceal it. Apparently, the thief was more frightened of whomever these people were than Jake's blade pressing into his neck. Richard felt a bit helpless, as he wanted to assist but wasn't quite sure how. He opted for searching the bodies of the other thieves, as it seemed Jake hadn't had a chance to yet. Perhaps he would find something useful and his senior partner would be a little impressed, Isahn hoped. Grimacing, he tried not to look at the faces of the dead men as his hands scoured their pockets. Richard reassured himself these feelings of queasiness would pass with more field experience.

Jake scowled, and carefully considered what to do next. It was difficult to get information from someone with the thief's current mindset, although as far as the Hunter knew there were only a few underground organizations notorious enough to inspire that kind of fear, so in a way his silence spoke volumes.

Rich wasn't having much luck, finding only a few meaningless identification items (almost guaranteed to be fake) as well some meseta vouchers and other assorted cards designed for a wide variety of mundane functions. After moving to his third body, however, Rich discovered something promising: a datapad. It appeared, judging from the dagger protruding from the back of the man's skull, that he had been in the process of erasing the information contained inside when Jake had entered the room. After wiping the blood from the datapad's screen, Isahn smiled as he read through the still-available documents.

"Jake, I found something that might interest you," Richard announced triumphantly, holding the datapad out for Jake to inspect. The numan quickly snatched it away, and eagerly peered at its contents, keeping an eye on the surviving thief at all times. After a few moments, Jake growled.

"So it was the Inquisitors…" Jake's voice had turned icy, and for a second Isahn thought he was going to kill the man anyway. One of these days he'd have to find out why Jake hated the Inquisition so much, not that Rich could really blame him. There were rumors they had been responsible for a variety of crimes, some of them cruel enough to be considered torture, if not outright terrorism. The Motavian Media Network claimed the Inquisition was simply a few isolated fanatics that would be dealt with soon, and downplayed the seriousness of their actions. Although the information reported by the MMN was convincing, as a Hunter Isahn had access to information most civilians didn't. Now, he had directly witnessed proof of one of the Inquisition's crimes; they had paid these men, probably generously, to steal weapons… and then left them to take the fall. Richard actually felt a tinge of pity for the surviving thief, although it was obvious Jake did not share his sentiments.

Jake settled for simply punching the man, breaking his nose and splattering red liquid everywhere. The thief cried out in shock and pain before doubling over, clutching at his ruined face, blood oozing between clenched fingers. Jake simply stood, kicked the man hard in the stomach with his hard-soled standard issue Hunter boots, and turned to leave.

"Let's go," Jake grumbled, "we got what we need." He pushed past Isahn and quickly left, sidestepping the fire which, although still spreading, was unable to burn the metabrick walls and so settled for just consuming the ancient, combustible office furniture and supplies scattered everywhere. Eventually the blaze would simply burn itself out, but there was no reason to stand around and become part of its fuel. Hastily, Richard followed his mentor out of the old office, smirking as he spotted the destroyed robot now engulfed in flames as well. Although Jake didn't seem to care, Richard was still pleased at his ability to take the machine down.

The pair passed several men as they rushed out of the warehouse, and judging by their blue-and-silver armor, it was apparent the local authorities had finally arrived. Actually, these particular men weren't men at all, but androids. Also known as cybercops, these particular Androids were used extensively for police and military duty, mostly due to their tireless efficiency. Although this made them effective at controlling crime and generally keeping the peace, it made them a bitch to deal with, as Jake often remarked. As if to prove his point once again, a trio of identical looking Police Androids were blocking the exit to the warehouse with stunners raised. Although their weapons were harmless, the pair of Hunters immediately halted, as getting shot by a stunner was not a pleasant experience. Often, the victim loses control of bodily functions for a certain period of time.

"Hey, lower your weapons, we're Hunters on a Guild-sanctioned mission!" Jake cried, raising his hands slightly to demonstrate he wasn't about to attack.

"Please procure your Hunter identification slowly with your right hand, place it on the floor surface and back away approximately four meters," came the deadpan, mechanical voice of the middle android; probably the "Captain." Although all Police Androids were more or less controlled by the Central Law Enforcement Nexus, or CLEN, they were given a modicum of independent thought. Like all sentient beings, some proved to more intelligent and capable than others, and these were promoted and given more free reign to choose their own actions.

Apparently this one chose to be difficult.

Swearing to himself, Jake complied, and Richard followed suit. With their Hunter ID's laying on the dirty ceramocrete floor, the two Hunters backed up to what Rich hoped was four meters. One of the androids moved forward, and quickly seized the ID's, scanned them, and Isahn swore the thing beeped twice, although if it did it was barely audible. Regardless, the android received whatever confirmation it needed that the two men that stood before it, both wearing standard-issue Hunter jackets, armor, boots, and gloves, were indeed actual Hunters. In unison, the three Police Androids lowered their weapons, and the one holding their ID's promptly returned them.

"Our apologies, Hunter Richard Isahn and Hunter Jake Rikavez. Standard procedure requires us to verify the identification of every individual located within a reported crime area," the machine certainly didn't sound apologetic, although its monotone voice didn't accommodate emotional inflection well.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jake replied, impatiently seizing his ID, "anyway, who do you think it was that called you over here in the first place?" "We are thankful you contacted us," the Captain replied, "even as we converse, the fire is under control, and the bodies of all deceased suspects are being recovered"

"Well, there was one survivor," Richard pointed out, although a warning glance from Jake prompted Isahn to leave out the part about the impromptu interrogation; probably because then the police would want to know all about it, and if they found out Jake had the datapad with information about the Inquisition's involvement, it would just lead to more questioning, and possible media involvement, something Jake preferred to avoid. Although law enforcement rarely interfered with Hunter missions, they never missed an opportunity to glean whatever information they could from the Hunters in question, and there wasn't much the Guild could do about it. Ever since the infamous Jansten fiasco back in SC 365.78, nearly six hundred years prior, laws were passed that required Hunters to report all information they had gathered to any relevant law enforcement agencies. This didn't mean it actually happened, of course, but Jake would have gotten the Guild in quite a bit of trouble had he not at least notified the Police once contact with the thieves had been made.

"There was a survivor?" The Captain seemed genuinely puzzled, for an expressionless android at least, "Our units have confirmed the presence of five suspects, all deceased"

Jake was about to say something when one of the androids they had passed earlier escaping the warehouse passed by, towing two bodies behind it on floating insta-stretchers. On one of them was the man Jake had questioned earlier.

He had shot himself in the head.

"Eh…. I'm gonna need a stiff drink after this," Jake murmured.

"Well, that was fun," Isahn stated sarcastically as the duo descended the steps leading away from the entrance to the local police Headquarters, almost seven hours later. Both of the Hunters had been subjected to rigorous questioning, as the androids naturally insisted on completing as many seemingly unnecessary reports as possible. Fortunately, Jake had managed to keep the data pad concealed, and since neither of them mentioned it and there was no reason for the cyber cops to suspect its existence, some time and headaches were saved.

"So where are we at again? I was hung over when we got here," Jake was probably joking, but it was difficult to tell. Either way, it seemed he was back to his old self, such as it was.

"We're in Termi, so that means plenty of bars and clubs, with lots of dancing girls, I'm sure," Isahn indicated the glowing advertisements and copious amount of cheerful pedestrians everywhere with a flourish. Although not really a drinker, and shy around women, Isahn knew his partner certainly desired plenty of both. Jake smiled devilishly as he considered a nearby establishment with an almost-nude numan girl as its sign, before heading off in its direction. Richard followed closely behind, as this was almost certain to prove interesting.

It was almost midnight in Termi, and the city was as alive as ever. Beginning as just another town millenia ago, the city of Termi had slowly developed a thriving tourist-based industry, until it was considered the premiere tourist attraction in all of Algo. Even beings from other systems had been known to visit, and the citizens residing here had done their best to make Termi as accommodating as possible to as many different speciess as possible, and their efforts showed. Even the clannish blue-furred Motavians themselves could be spotted in the crowd, as well as a Dezolian or two. Walking casually between impossibly tall skyscrapers, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, despite the impending threat of the mysterious Great Light. In fact, since its return, Termi had been busier than ever, as if everyone wanted to enjoy themselves one last time, in case it decided to attack Motavia like it did the remnants of Palma and the workers attempting to restore it. Although nobody, not even the United Church, truly knew what the motives of the Great Light were, the prevailing attitude amongst the citizens was that Great Light was going to do what it wanted, and there wasn't much anyone could really do about it. Richard personally detested that attitude, as did most of the other Hunters at the Guild. After all, the Profound Darkness could be destroyed by mortal beings like himself, so why not the Great Light as well, if it truly turned out to be a threat? Already there were rumors of the United Algoan Naval Fleet mobilizing their starships for a possible offensive against the Great Light, and Richard looked up into the night sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the telltale glow of battleships orbiting high above.

Speeding Aerocars zipped by overhead, following unseen traffic signals and aerial roadways. The hum and warm breeze of their passing felt invigorating to Isahn. It was the reason he'd become a Hunter in the first place; to protect all of this. He had also considered joining the Military, but being a Hunter just seemed so much more… exciting. After all, as a soldier, he'd probably be stuck on some isolated base right now, twiddling his thumbs, unable to enjoy himself whatsoever. As this thought crossed his mind, several laughing, obviously intoxicated off-duty soldiers burst forth from the establishment they had been heading to, and one of them had their arms wrapped around a scantily clad numan female, perhaps one of the entertainers.

Isahn simply grunted to himself. Well, perhaps he had been wrong about that, but he had no regrets about becoming a Hunter… even if he was stuck with Jake as his mentor. On more than one occasion he'd receiving pitying looks from other Hunters back in Aiedo, especially the women. Although Jake regularly bragged about having slept with most of the female Hunters in the Guild, Isahn had every reason to suspect the opposite. Well, aside from Clertha, of course. A tall, broad, muscular woman, Clertha considered Jake her boyfriend, whether he wanted to be or not. Isahn chuckled as he recalled Jake hiding behind a decorative plant to avoid her attention back at Headquarters, before they had set out on this mission.

"Heh heh, you ready?" Jake asked with a sly smirk as they reached the double doors of the club. A bulky Motavian bouncer looked down dispassionately at the two Hunters before jerking his thumb toward the entrance, apparently granting them access.

"Yeah, of course!" Isahn replied, letting his enthusiasm slip out a little more than he intended. It was hard not to be excited, though. The deep thump of popular music almost beckoned him inside, and the mingled scent of a variety of intoxicating smokes wafting from the entrance tickled his nostrils.

"Jake wait, should we be doing this? I mean, are you sure it'll be okay with the Guild?" Richard almost had to yell to make himself heard over the din of the music.

"They don't need to know," Jake laughed, "besides it's not like they'd really care anyway. We're not due back in Aiedo for another few days anyway, so try to keep up. That's an order!" Chuckling, the impertinent numan pushed through the doors and immediately headed for a table. Steeling himself for whatever this wild night might bring, Richard followed.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

_He saw it again. A hideous, evil visage staring at him out of the darkness, eyes glowing with pure malevolence. It seemed pleased somehow, and this made him turn and run away... But everywhere he looked, the grotesque face was there, mocking him. He groped feebly in the darkness surrounding him, hoping there was something there; a door, anything. It was then he noticed he had no hands; only shriveled stubs where his hands should be._

_He cried out in horror._

Richard Isahn suddenly awoke up in a cold sweat, sitting bolt upright in his bed. Another bad dream… Rich tried hard not to dwell on the increasing frequency and intensity of his recurring nightmares, and after taking a few deep, relaxing breaths, lay back down.

There was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep, however. The psych had told him these dreams were a subconscious reaction to losing his memory, as similar phenomena were occurring to others who had also lost theirs, although as far as Isahn knew, he was the only one experiencing actual nightmares on a regular basis.

Ever since the Great Light reappeared, certain people had inexplicably began suffering from amnesia. To Richard's knowledge he was one of the few that hadn't had some kind of friends or family to fall back on for support, and the information on his background in the Motavian Citizen Database was woefully inadequate. Only information about his name, age, gender, and some genetic data were available. He had been told that although uncommon, it was not unknown for the Citizen Database to have incomplete or missing records. Some of the staff at the Guild offered their sympathies to Richard, for which he was grateful, but his lack of memory didn't bother him nearly as much as those damn nightmares did. Still, he occasionally wondered about where he'd come from, and if he still had any living family remaining. Since the database searches for possible relations had turned up inconclusive, Richard decided not to worry about it. With his typical positive outlook, Isahn figured he'd rediscover his own past eventually. In the meantime, the members of the Hunter's Guild had become his new family in a way, with the exception of Jake perhaps.

Richard groaned as he recalled the last few days spent with his senior "partner." After getting left behind in the club back on Termi, a very intoxicated Isahn discovered Jake back in their hotel room, in the embrace of not one but TWO women. After having various objects thrown at him in an effort to drive him away, Richard left and forgot where exactly he passed out; he only recalled waking up in an unmarked alley in lower Termi, missing all personal identification and one shoe. Although with the modern technology available it wasn't hard to get these replaced, it was inconvenient and not at all pleasant considering the titanic hangover he was experiencing at the time. By the time he had finally caught up with Jake, ready to give him a piece of his mind, Jake was already visibly upset because apparently one of the women he'd slept with that night had somehow stolen some meseta. Richard secretly decided Jake had simply paid them, and didn't want to admit it. It was a rather interesting week, Richard reflected with a chuckle, but he was certainly glad to be home.

It was night in Aiedo, the central nexus of the Hunter's Guild on Motavia, and insects buzzed while nocturnal birds chirped their subdued chorus. There was just enough of the city lights filtering through the windows to see, and Rich looked down at his hands. Instead of the bloody stumps he had seen in his dreams, ten fleshy digits greeted his gaze, and he flexed each one in turn, as if making sure they were real. What was really happening? Almost every night for the past few months he experienced some kind of nightmare unless he drank himself to sleep, and it was getting tiring. Although he believed the psych, he had a feeling there was something more to the dreams than mere subconscious substitution.

Pulling himself out of bed, he went to go find the restroom. After finishing, he turned on the light and scrutinized himself in the mirror. Shoulder length, light blue hair framed a strong but handsome face, which complemented the rest of his lean, muscular body well. Although not particularly tall, Richard wasn't short either, and for that he was thankful. Still, all things considered, for a Hunter he was depressingly average, even amongst the other recruits. Uncomfortable with this thought, Richard stared hard into the mirror, determined not to give in to any doubt. Emerald green eyes gazed back at themselves, but after seeing their confusion, Rich turned away, disgusted, and crawled back in to bed, knowing fully well his efforts were pointless.

_Well, _he consoled himself, _you're just unsettled because of that dream. Just give yourself a few hours and you'll be back to normal again… _

Dawn was rapidly approaching. The balmy glow of Algo's sunrise created a portrait of splendid abstraction across the sky, and Isahn smiled. Already, thanks to nature's beauty, he was beginning to feel better, and the sunlight was beginning to refill his spirit with determination.

He picked up his datapad to read over the next mission, but stopped, scowling, as he saw most of the details were listed as "unknown." All he could determine was the assignment was in Zema, and involved a missing Motavian girl, who had almost definately been kidnapped. Hopefully Jake had gotten more information than he had, or else this was going to be one rough assignment… Shaking his head, Rich picked up his sheathed Ceramic Sword, slipped his Motavian-made Titanium armor over his crimson Hunter's Jacket, and prepared himself for his upcoming mission. Fortunately, the Guild commanders hadn't seemed to notice or care that both Richard and Jake were dirty, unshaven, and generally disheveled after returning from their last assignment (Isahn would later find out they had come to expect nothing less from Jake), and although they hadn't discovered the exact whereabouts of the missing weapons, the information contained in the datapad Richard found was enough to fulfill the terms of the contract, and so it was considered a success nevertheless. From what he had heard, however, the Military was not satisfied in the least, although they refused to disclose the exact reasons why. A potential legal battle was brewing, but both Richard and Jake had been paid, which was enough for them. Still, Rich was still curious about the Military's stance on the matter, but Jake had informed him in hushed tones to keep his nose out of it.

Although Jake was one of the more disagreeable members of the Guild, Isahn had to admit things always seemed to work out when around him. Maybe he was good luck, or some such nonsense. Isahn smiled at this thought as he pulled his shiny new Hunter boots on. After everything was finally ready, Rich picked up his equipment bag, slung it over his shoulder, and strode out the door of his residence.

"What took you so long? Were you dreaming about me again?" Came the very irritating, reedy voice of Jake. Isahn just stared at the smirking numan silently. Like all numans, Jake had long, pointed ears that stuck almost straight up, in a somewhat horn-like fashion. His short, violet hair was messy as always, and he wore a ferro-steel breastplate over his Hunter's Jacket, which mimicked Isahn's own, and Rich uncomfortably noticed he once again had obnoxiously tight pants on. Richard had to remind himself that was the current fashion among numan men.

"Shut up, Jake," Isahn replied. Rich was still annoyed about getting left behind in the club back at Termi, and wasted no opportunity to show it.

"Hey, don't go getting all pissed off at me already. There's plenty of time for that later." Jake responded with casual disregard.

"Fine. So are you ready?"

"Sure. Might want to grab a telepipe on the way out, though."

Isahn caught up with him and they walked side-by-side, "It's too bad we can't use _Ryuka_. It's so much easier, from what I hear." Rich was referring, of course, to the powerful technique that allowed instantaneous transportation across a planet's surface. Because of its heavy potential for abuse, the secret of _Ryuka_ was carefully guarded, and everyone able to use it was meticulously cataloged and monitored. The Hunter's Guild encouraged any of its members with the innate ability to learn it, however, as it greatly increased their usefulness. Richard was eager to try and see if he had been gifted with the ability to master _Ryuka_, as if there was anything he wanted, it was to be useful to the Guild.

"Yeah, but telepipes are a lot faster, which is handy in case Clertha shows up or something." The numan shuddered slightly.

Isahn just rolled his eyes, "well, there's no need to worry, since I have a couple extra 'pipes just in case."

Jake nodded in acknowledgement. They walked on in silence for another moment or two, and Richard caught himself yawning more than once. Damn those nightmares he'd been having! For once he'd like a full night's rest without having to rely on medication or drink.

"So, what do you think we're going to find in Zema?" Rich finally asked, hoping the numan could shed some light on their assignment, "the mission description was kind of lacking." Although he hated to admit it, he relied on Jake for a lot of the intelligence surrounding the jobs they took together, since because of his memory loss, he no longer knew much about Motavia, or anything else for that matter.

"I have no fucking idea," Jake muttered angrily, and Richard was suddenly sorry he asked. A few moments passed in awkward silence before Isahn remembered there was something he'd been wanting to ask his mentor, but was dreading his reaction. Isahn decided to just come out and inquire anyway.

"Do you really think the Great Light is punishing us?" Isahn asked, trying to sound casual.

"What? What's this? Are you actually scared?" Jake turned to appraise his partner with a smile.

"No! I just mean… you know… this thing is supposed to be our Creator. How could it turn on us like this?"

"Who knows? I've heard everything from the Church's explanation, to some crackpots saying it's really here to bring us all in to paradise or some such nonsense. The Dezolians think it just finished off Palma to rejuvenate itself, as it's supposedly converting the matter it absorbs into energy."

"That's right. I remember reading that. Well, it's good news for us if that's true. Maybe that's why it hasn't attacked Motavia yet."

"Yeah, that's kind of what I was thinking. I mean, the Palman asteroid belt is pretty extensive. Surely there's enough energy contained there to fully restore that thing, or whatever."

Isahn considered this. "If not, it could come after us next."

"What? No way. This isn't Dark Force. It's not going to openly attack an entire populated planet. I think those workers trying to restore Palma just ate it because they happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, " Jake replied with conviction.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Isahn agreed. Although something about this whole matter still bothered him, Richard was reassured by his partner's opinion. Richard wanted to believe in the Great Light, and while never being a devout worshipper (as far as he could recall), he always knew in his heart that it was a Good and Pure being… however, the actions the Great Light had taken since its return had Isahn second guessing his gut feelings, filling him with doubt regarding the Great Light's true nature. To assuage these mixed feelings, Isahn had posed similar questions to friends he'd made in the Guild, and their sentiments were similar to Jake's. Certainly, this was a good sign.

The pair were now passing through the center of Aiedo. There was a small, grassy park to the south of them dedicated to the memory of the courageous heroes that finally destroyed the Profound Darkness once and for all an entire millenia earlier. In the center was an expertly crafted statue of Alys Bragwin, the legendary "Eight-stroke warrior," although nobody ever seemed to agree on what that meant. Jake, naturally, had his own perverted ideas regarding the "stroke" portion of her title.

Nearby were figures of Chaz Ashley, the latest savior of Algo, and Rika, who fought alongside them and was later wedded to Chaz. There were statues of their other companions as well: Hahn, the physically weak but determined scholar; Gryz, the vengeful Motavian who had lost his parents to a follower of Dark Force; Kyra, an upbeat Esper that never gave up; Rune, an incarnation of the ancient Esper Lutz; and finally Raja, the Dezolian Priest whose bad jokes were the stuff of legend. Although each of these people had sacrificed and contributed in their own way to the defeat of the Profound Darkness, their statues were smaller and not as prominently placed. Isahn's gaze lingered on the statue of Rune; it made him uncomfortable for some reason.

"Damn, Rika's beautiful. You don't know how many times I've wanted to grab that statue," Jake said, eying the marble with a sly grin.

"She's been dead for almost a millennium, you realize, as well as being your ancient ancestor," Isahn reminded him.

"Yeah, we numans are all related, though, when you put it like that. But thanks to your human genes, we're not inbred."

"Too bad. It would explain a lot."

"Was that a joke? Did you just make a joke?!" Jake just giggled, staring at Rich disbelievingly, "I do believe there is hope for you yet." Richard was trying hard to pick up on the art of jovial banter (also known as talking shit), which seemed like a necessity being partnered with Jake.

Isahn nodded, smiling, and kept walking. Although Aiedo wasn't quite as busy as Termi, there was still quite a lot happening. Despite being known as the Capitol of the Hunter's Guild, Aiedo was also one of the main commercial centers on Motavia, and the Aiedo Stock Exchange was rivaled only by that of the restored Planetary Capitol of Paseo itself. Malls and assorted shopping centers of all sizes competed for space with tall, commercial office buildings, with only the massive Hunter's Guild Headquarters itself dwarfing them all. Retaining its classic domed structure, the Guild Headquarters had continued to grow and expand even back when demand for the actual Hunters themselves was at a minimum. It was determined by Aiedo's City Government that a large, powerful-looking Guild was essential for the City's continued commercial success, and everywhere people went there were constant reminders of how close Algo came to destruction, only being saved by the courageous efforts of Hunters Chaz and Rika Ashley (the latter who also became an official Hunter after the Profound Darkness was defeated), as well as Alys, who (according to the ads) nobly sacrificed herself for what she believed in. Accompanying these advertisements were all manner of merchandise whose sales would support the Hunter's Guild in its continued efforts to fight evil and keep Algo free…and put meseta in the City coffers. Although Richard respected and admired the previous saviors of Algo as much as anyone else, he was getting sick of having their accomplishments shoved in his face, especially now of all times. It also seemed a bit hollow that their trials and tribulations had been reduced to mere marketing ploys; somehow he felt they deserved better. Still, Aiedo was a prosperous city because of this, and the Guild was thriving once again. Richard couldn't help but smile whenever he saw a young child playing with a Chaz or Rika toy, and idly wondered to himself if he'd ever owned one as a child.

Recognizing them as genuine Hunters, some of the passing pedestrians waved or otherwise greeted the pair as they passed. Although Isahn always made sure to return the sentiment, Jake generally ignored them unless it was an attractive member of the opposite sex in question. On the occasion another Hunter spotted the pair, they usually just shook their head and walked off.

Soon enough, they were at the city gates. All manner of vehicles were arriving and departing, most of them simply flying over the ancient gates that were really only there out of homage to Aiedo's past; at one point they were necessary to protect the city from roving biomonsters. Although newer, high-tech devices such as city shields were now in place to protect Aiedo from any incursion the biomonsters may attempt to make, Isahn still found it reassuring that live guards were still posted as lookouts, although the position was almost entirely ceremonial.

The guards eyed them wearily, and allowed the pair to pass with a quick gesture. Although they could have opted for vehicular transport, Hunters were allowed the unique privilege of owning items such as telepipes, which were essentially charged techniques stored in a device. Now beyond the confines of the city, whose shields also prevented entry through techniques, including telepipes or other means, it was time to get to their destination. Rich dug through his bag and picked out a telepipe. He handed the oblong device to Jake, since he had remembered being to Zema before. One of the requirements for using a telepipe, or _Ryuka_, the technique a telepipe was derived from, was that the user had knowledge of the intended destination.

"You know, once they get that teleporter up and running again, this will be a lot easier," Jake complained. He held aloft the telepipe, and with a white flash they were gone.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

They arrived with a familiar jolt (which felt oddly like jumping and falling simultaneously, Jake had once remarked) in the outskirts of Zema, outside the city shield, of course. Although the shield was kept active at all times, it was set on such a low power level that any matter could easily pass through it, and Richard felt only a slight tingle as he stepped through the transparent barrier. The shielding was generally used to keep users of _Ryuka_ from teleporting into the city proper, as it still blocked the flow of STE energy within a person when they made contact with it, although did not harm them in the process. The reason for this was simple: there was too great a risk of people materializing within solid walls, something that had been known to occur before, with decidedly unpleasant results (there was a reason that people typically teleported to just outside their destination in ages past, Richard had learned). The city shielding could also be increased in power to keep out intruders, although this had almost never happened until the recent outbreak of biomonster attacks.

_It's too bad the shielding only keeps out intruders, _Isahn thought to himself, _it doesn't do anything to protect against enemies from within. _He scrutinized a pair of passing Ministers of the United Church, and although they seemed amiable enough from their mannerisms, it was impossible to tell if they were associated with the Inquisition or not. Although the United Church of the Great Light officially denounced the Inquisition as heretical and an affront to everything the Great Light stood for, it was no secret (at least amongst Guild members) that there were quite a few Inquisition sympathizers within all levels of the Church hierarchy. In fact, Zema was one of the suspected hotbeds of Inquisitiorial activity, although getting concrete information was difficult as the Central Motavian Government was withholding a great deal of information, which was sort of understandable. If the rumors Isahn had heard about the Inquisition were true, a lot of citizens would be panicked if they were to find out what was actually happening within their supposedly safe and secure cities, making things much harder to control. Richard fervently hoped the situation with the Inquisitors wasn't as bad as everyone back at the Guild Headquarters kept saying. Although Zema wasn't the nicest place in Algo, he hated the thought of anyone making life hard for the citizens here.

As one of the oldest surviving cities on Motavia, Zema had lasted for over two thousand years, which was impressive considering the turmoil the once-dry planet had gone through over the past few millennia. Although at one point it had shrunk to a small town, Zema was once again a bustling city, and Richard was momentarily startled as a huge aero train thundered by overhead, as if to punctuate this fact. Zema had evolved into a primarily industrial city, a thick forest of factories and distribution centers decorating the horizen with their bulky spires, designed more for rugged functionality than any sort of aesthetics. Large cargo transports were just as common as private transportation here, and the deep thrum of magnalift-powered aero-vehicles permeated the atmosphere. Although with modern technology the factories didn't really pollute the environment, a noticeable, ever-present metallic odor caused Isahn to wrinkle his nostrils on more than one occasion.

Due to the amount of goods produced here, a busy spaceport, one of the largest in the system, was the centerpiece of Zema, and by association the famed Starship Academy, which had branches for training both Military and Civilian starship personnel. Richard caught himself taking occasional glances toward the bright morning sky, hoping to see a starship streaking up towards the infinity of the cosmos, or at least returning from there. He was almost boyishly disappointed not to see any as of yet.

"So now where?" asked Isahn. Despite the lack of airborne spacecraft, he was still able to gaze appreciatively around at the large skyscrapers, towers, and flying vehicles which weaved amongst them like insects pushing their way through a busy hive. The sheer number and density of the structures spoke volumes of Zema's wealth and power, and they were beginning to make Rich feel somewhat insignificant.

"Hmmm…apparently we're supposed to find a Motavian couple on Argus street," Jake replied, examining his datapad and tapping the screen for more details.

"Yeah, I knew that much. Still, that's strange; for some reason, I recall that they didn't like living in cities." Isahn frowned. He only remembered ever meeting a few Motavian Natives, and although they seemed agreeable enough, some of their strange, rural ways baffled him. All he knew of them he had read in docs or seen on the media network, and one of the principal pieces of information was that they disliked being around heavily populated areas.

"They don't. This might prove interesting…." Jake almost started skipping as they went to find transportation. As they continued down the street, some people stopped to eye the two hunters. Jake winked at a couple of Numan girls, who blushed amiably in response and scooted away, chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

_How does he do that? _Richard pondered this, as Jake was notorious for getting consistently turned down by many of the local women in Aiedo (Clertha aside), and not for a lack of trying on his part. He found it puzzling because Richard had seen Jake have some degree of success with females from other cities.

It was probably because the ones in Aiedo had gotten to know him, Isahn mused.

"Here we go!" Jake exclaimed, hailing a battered old aerocab that was hurtling down the street. The machine slowed, its ancient magnalift units creaking more than humming, The stench of burnt ozone from corroded motivator cables was overpowering, and Jake unashamedly pinched his nostrils shut. Isahn shot a questioning glance at his partner, who simply shrugged in return. Not wanting to waste any time lest the kidnappers get farther away, Richard simply yanked open the rear passenger door, and both Hunters clambered into the vehicle.

"Ah, Hunters, eh?" The driver, and old human woman that more resembled a dried _kuryi _fruit than anything else, turned to squint at her new passengers, "well, where will you be wantin' to go?"

"Here," Jake showed her the address on the data scan, and when the driver saw it she did a double take, and Richard imagined there normally wasn't much that surprised this woman. Apparently, their intended destination did for some reason.

"Okay, but it'll cost you double, 'cause this ain't a nice neighborhood you're goin' to," she declared in voice that was now decidedly gruff.

"WHAT? What kind of shit is this?" Jake's protest devolved in a string of colorful swearing, but Isahn merely sighed.

"Sure, whatever. Just take us there," Richard instructed the driver, who simply shook her head.

"Your funeral…" the old lady almost reluctantly pulled away from the curbside, her cab sputtering a bit before taking off down one of the main streets of Zema.

"What the hell, Rich?" Jake was livid, "Cabs are already overpriced as it is. You know this."

"I know, but we have to get there as soon as possible. The mission details weren't very complete, so there's no telling what kind of danger she could be in," Richard imagined a small, defenseless Motavian child terrified out of her wits, and for all Richard knew the kidnapper could be a sick man with any number of twisted desires… the thought caused him to shudder, and made the rookie Hunter all the more determined to get there as fast as he could.

"Eh… you have a point, but just so you know, this additional expense is coming out of your share of the mission pay," Jake informed him.

Isahn, not sure if the numan was joking or not but suspecting the latter, simply folded his arms and stared out the cab's dirty window.

After a few quick detours, they arrived in a dilapidated old neighborhood, just as the aged cab driver had implied earlier. Rich observed a ragged group of youths hanging around a decaying old storefront, trying their best to appear tough. Several of them threw mean looks toward the arriving vehicle, perhaps hoping to be intimidating. Jake didn't appear to be impressed in the least, while Richard did his best to simply ignore them.

_Was it one of these gangs that was behind the kidnapping? _Rich wondered. Somehow, he doubted it.

Soon, the cab slowed to a grinding halt in front of an old apartment that would probably be better off condemned (later, Richard would learn that it actually was). Thanklessly, Jake handed the old lady a fistful of meseta with little gratuity, and she tore away in an angry cloud of dust when the pair exited her vehicle.

"So this is it?" Isahn asked, appraising the antiquated, two-story building suspiciously, waving dust away from his face. The structure was absolutely ancient, and the many coats of paint had all peeled off to varying degrees, giving it a motley appearance that further betrayed its age. Isahn was wondering why it hadn't been demolished already.

"I guess," Jake replied, "It kind of reminds me of where I grew up…"

"Honestly, I didn't know there were places like this on Motavia," Richard gazed up and down the cracked roadway, discouraged to see that most of the other structures closely resembled this one condition-wise. The few civilians walking or riding by on various forms of personal transport didn't look much better off than the buildings they inhabited.

"Yeah, some cities have areas such as this," Jake indicated a pile of trash spilling out of the alley that appeared to have been collecting there for an impressive length of time, "but to be honest, they're becoming smaller and rarer all the time. Thanks to the strong planetary economy, everyone should have decent housing within a few decades…" Jake trailed off, looking thoughtful. Richard suddenly realized Jake hadn't been kidding about living in a place like this during his youth.

"Well, then I hope the economy stabilizes. I hear it's been fluctuating quite a bit lately thanks to the Great Light's appearance," Isahn was trying not to sound discouraging, although the truth was things weren't looking so great for Motavia's financial future, any other variety of threat posed by the Great Light notwithstanding. Fortunately, the economy was so robust to begin with that it would take time for the effects to be felt by most of the common citizenry.

Jake simply nodded absentmindedly while tapping out commands on his datapad, which Isahn noticed was smeared with what appeared to be bits of food. After a few seconds of this, he stuffed it back into a jacket pocket and turned toward Isahn.

"Alright, the parents of our kidnapped victim supposedly reside inside this building, unit designation thirty-four B. Have you ever been inside a Motavian's house before?"

"Ummm… not that I can recall," For all Richard could remember of his past, he might as well have been raised by Motavians and it wouldn't have mattered.

"Then you're in for a treat," Jake laughed as he shoved the rickety entrance open and stepped inside the dingy hallway. Richard hesitantly followed, and was almost relieved to see they were currently the only occupants. In fact, it was eerily silent save for the creaking of an outdated ventilation system.

Doors lined either side of the drab corridor, each one apparently leading to an individual apartment. Musty odors (probably better left unidentified) pervaded the air, but these weren't nearly as obnoxious as the randomly flickering lights that occasionally illuminated their passage. The original unit designations, which had at one point been bolted above the apartment doorways, were for the most part missing or incomplete, the omitted information being replaced with numbers or letters that were either handwritten or simply scratched into the paint. The Motavians' residence was no different, and at first glance appeared indistinguishable from its neighbors. As Jake pounded on the door, probably a bit harder than was necessary, Richard briefly wondered if they even had the right place. They obviously did, because after a brief moment the door opened, revealing a furry blue face complemented by gleaming red eyes and long, numan-like ears. The entire body of native Motavians was covered by a shaggy, royal blue-colored coat of soft fur, and only features such as their eyes and broad noses were uncovered.

"Oh…um… hello!" Richard grinned sheepishly, unsure of any specific greeting protocol.

The Motavian merely blinked in response.

"Did you request Hunter assistance?" Jake asked in an unusually professional manner.

"Yes," came the deep basso voice of a Motavian male, "I assume you are them?"

"Affirmative," Rich replied, gathering himself as he recalled the urgency of their mission, "and, if our information is correct, your daughter has been kidnapped?"

"Hmmm… maybe you should come inside," came the uninformative reply, and the Motavian disappeared into his apartment, leaving the doorway open.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

Shrugging, Richard stepped inside the dwelling, and immediately started as something unidentifiable crunched under his feet. Gazing around in awe, Isahn spotted piles of trash everywhere, some of them almost touching the ceiling. However, this refuse wasn't so much rotten garbage as just simply junk. Half-completed inventions, haphazardly repaired machines and appliances of various kinds were scattered everywhere, and Isahn had to carefully watch his step to avoid treading over anything the Motavians might consider valuable.

"My name is Tahle," the large male introduced himself after closing the door behind the two Hunters, "and this is my wife, Morna." He indicated a smaller Motavian standing in what passed for a kitchen; she looked exactly like a smaller version of her husband save for some vaguely feminine clothing and a couple other features found exclusively on adult women. Morna stepped forward and promptly bowed to the pair of Hunters. Jake acknowledged her sign of respect with a strange hand gesture that Isahn did his best to imitate. Later, Richard planned to berate his partner for not sharing his knowledge of Motavian customs (such as it was) any earlier.

"Would you like some Tonoen coffee?" Morna asked, her voice on the verge of cracking from stress, "we just got some shipped to us recently."

Although Isahn generally avoided coffee or any other stimulants, he was still fatigued from lack of decent sleep and readily agreed to a cup. Jake ordered his in a distinct style, complete with specific amounts of cream and sugar. Although Richard sighed inwardly at his mentor's conduct, Morna seemed unoffended and hurried off to prepare their beverages. Tahle gestured toward a sort of couch that was relatively free of clutter, and the pair of Hunters promptly found comfortable seats for themselves after carefully maneuvering around some intervening trash heaps.

"So," Richard began, eager to glean any details he could regarding their assignement, "our mission data is rather lacking, but we understand that your daughter is missing. Is there any additional information you can give us? Surely it would help in our investigation." Jake usually proceeded with this line of questioning, and the fact that he didn't interrupt Rich presumably meant the rookie was doing well. That, or Jake simply didn't care; another distinct possibility.

"Well," Tahle began, taking a seat opposite the Hunters, "I couldn't give much information, because I was interrupted while speaking with a secretary at your Guild. She said that a team of capable Hunters would be dispatched almost immediately in response to the situation, and then I terminated the connection."

"Can you tell us why?" Richard decided not to comment on the "team of capable Hunters" claim, but vowed inwardly to live up to the expectations this Motavian couple had of them.

"Yes. Our daughter, Sari, had returned to us, and I was about to cancel your services at that point, except that her project had accompanied her back," Tahle mentioned this last fact wearily, and rubbed his face in exasperation.

"Project?" Jake sat up a bit, suddenly interested.

"Yes. Her 'kidnapper,' if you will," Tahle explained, "and as you can probably see, she was taken from us once again, so it is fortuitous that you've actually been sent."

"Wait… can you tell us more about your daughter?" Isahn was impressed. This kid had apparently created something, a robot from the sound of it, and the machine had no doubt malfunctioned to some degree. The robot Rich had fought in their last mission was the first he'd actually battled (he didn't count the training droids back at the Guild), and he was eager to combat another. He found it somewhat satisfying, given that machines typically were tougher, deadlier, and possessed much quicker reflexes than biological creatures.

"Well, like many Motavians, our daughter is a genius with technology," Tahle couldn't help but puff up with paternal pride at this point, "but, unlike most others of our race, she holds a special interest for starships, and as I'm sure you're both well aware, we don't like to leave our planet," he shuddered at this point, disturbed by the mere thought of departing blessed Motavia. The two Hunters both nodded in understanding, although Richard hadn't known about this racial taboo against travelling off-planet. Of course, there _were_ Motavians that roamed throughout the system and beyond, either out of necessity or for some other nebulous reason, but after later research Isahn discovered their numbers were indeed few.

"So I suppose that explains why you've relocated here," Jake observed thoughtfully, and it took Richard only a second to make the correlation between Sari's interest in spacecraft and Zema's own Starship Academy.

"Sari wanted a human education. She wished to be an engineer on a human spaceship," Tahle admitted with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "our traditional Motavian ways seem sort of backward nowadays, I suppose, so I decided we'd move to Zema, where the Starship Academy is, and she could start school immediately. There are other Motavians living nearby as well, with similar… situations to ours, so we figured that it would work out perfectly. Then… all of this happens." Tahle made a sweeping gesture which emphasized his frustration perfectly.

"Exactly how old _is_ your daughter?" Isahn asked, brows furrowed in confusion. All along he had been expecting to rescue a child, but it was becoming more and more apparent that Sari was anything but. Jake, meanwhile, didn't seem surprised in the least.

"Our daughter is nearly twenty suns of age," Morna pointed out as she gingerly began preparing each of their beverages, pouring odd concoctions of ingredients into an even stranger device that more closely resembled a starship navigation drive than a food or beverage replicator. Richard chewed his lip in response. There was an old adage he recalled (but not from where) that went something like "assume anything, just not the truth." Although unsure of its exact meaning, it somehow seemed applicable. Why was he so sure that the kidnapped Motavian had just been a child?

"Can you tell us more about her 'project?'" Jake leaned back into the couch, which was soft and cushiony despite being covered in shed blue hair.

Tahle sighed deeply, which sounded much like an aerocar downshifting, "Roughly six months ago, while exploring an abandoned research facility nearby our dwelling, she discovered something. Remnants of ancient robots. Without our knowledge or consent, she began reassembling one of these machines, inside that run-down facility. About a week ago, her project was supposedly complete, and she showed it to us for the first time. However, once Sari activated the mechanism, it went haywire and walked straight through the wall into our neighbor's apartment," at this point, Tahle gestured toward a large patch of recently applied morphi-stucco that had yet to be painted over. Isahn breathed a sigh of relief at this point. Whatever the project was, it couldn't have been very large.

_So, _Isahn considered, _it's definately a machine we're going after. That explains why the parents couldn't handle it. At least it appears to be a lot smaller than the last one I fought… __Perhaps this mission would work out after all_. The fact Jake seemed bored once again was oddly reassuring as well.

Tahle continued, "then, Sari ran off after the thing, and we hadn't heard back from her in days. We contacted the local authorities at that point, but… although they assured us they'd take care of everything, we have yet to see any results. However, as I mentioned earlier, this morning Sari returned to us on her own. We were so happy, and were about to celebrate, when that damned machine returned as well. Sari claimed it was repaired, and that it was a present for us, to guard our home in case the Great Light tried to punish us." The sudden animosity in his voice told Rich that he wasn't referring to the Great Light itself, but its zealots. Jake nodded in affirmation to this attitude, while Richard absentmindedly stroked his hair, wondering why the Inquisition would even bother with a family of poor Motavians in the first place.

"Has the Inquisition troubled you before?" Rich asked, deciding it was a worthwhile question.

"No…" Tahle seemed almost embarrassed to admit this, "however, there is a group of Inquisitors known by the locals to be operating out of an abandoned Church just up the street. Sari doesn't necessarily have the best judgment sometimes, and after she heard news of some bums getting roughed up, decided to take… unnecessary precautions." Although Isahn knew enough by now to realize that Motavians generally disregarded the Inquisition as foolish fanaticism, he was also aware that as a whole the blue-furred natives tried to keep to themselves, seeking to avoid trouble whenever possible. Richard had no doubt that if the Inquisition actually tried anything devious with these Motavians, however, the Inquisitors would probably end up being the ones regretting it, even if they didn't have the assistance of machines. Native Motavians were renowned for being tough, resilient warriors. Even the females.

There was a pause in the conversation as Morna brought all four of them self-heating mugs of a steaming, ebony liquid. Rich winced as he took a sip; the coffee was quite bitter. Jake guzzled his down in a single, inelegant motion, and thanked Morna for his drink. Isahn was also about to offer a polite compliment when he suddenly noticed the fur at the edges of her eyes was wet and matted; she had apparently been crying softly to herself this entire time. After a moment of awkward silence occasionally punctuated by an inhuman sniffle, she managed to compose herself, and stared at the two Hunters with what could only be the unadulterated worry of a concerned parent.

"All our daughter wanted to do… was protect us," she cried, her voice wavering, "please… please bring her back!" At that point Morna dissolved into a sobbing mess, and collapsed into her husband's arms. Tahle held his wife tightly as he appraised the two Hunters sitting across from him.

"Well," Tahle continued, almost reluctantly, "Sari had returned, like I mentioned earlier, but her project had followed her back as well. Although she said it was now functional, this time it simply grabbed Sari and began carrying her off when I told her we couldn't keep the robot because it was obviously unstable. In desperation, I tried to decapitate the thing, but as you can see…" and he gestured toward what used to be a fine Titanium axe, the shaft now twisted and bent almost double, "fortunately, no one has been injured…" Isahn could see he had been about to say 'yet' but didn't for his wife's sake.

"At this point, I contacted your Guild," Tahle explained, "and although we're not exactly wealthy, I was able to procure funding from the Greater Motavian community." Richard knew that native Motavians were clannish and supported each other, but wasn't aware that that extended to financial matters as well. Although not really surprising, it did inspire him to respect their race a little more.

"Do you know where they could be now?" Rich couldn't help but feel for the couple, and was eager to get started. Morna's weeping was beginning to make him a bit uncomfortable, as well.

"The research center would be a good start," Tahle suggested, "not only was that where the machine was completed, but it returned there again after it was shown to us for the first time. The complex is very large, and is east of the apartment almost half a kilometer. You should easily be able to find it. The machine had no weapons, at least that I'm aware of, so I imagine a pair of experienced Hunters such as yourselves will have no problems taking it down." Jake snorted at this, although the implication was fortunately lost on the Motavians.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure your daughter returns safely," Richard announced with more confidence than he actually felt.

"Yeah, what he said," Jake yawned and stretched before standing, gesturing to Rich that it was, in fact, time to go.


End file.
